And Now For Something Completely Different
by Vialana
Summary: As the new supervisor of special projects at the Pentagon, General Jack O'Neill wasn't expecting to be dragged into the field again. But a wayward relative is about to change that. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Buffy, Angel or Stargate depicted herein.**

_Set 2 years post S7 of BTVS, 1 year post S5 of Angel (just a note though, in my mind "The Girl in Question" never happened - except for the 'Ciao' scene … don't know if that will come up later, but just in case)_

_Set right at the beginning of S9 of Stargate SG1 (i.e. General O'Neill is no longer in charge of SGC) but goes AU from there._

_No warnings yet, just a language warning. Rating is possibly for later chapters_

**And Now For Something Completely Different**

"General O'Neill." It wasn't a question the grey-haired man heard in the suited man's voice, but certainty. The first few days he'd been here things had been a little different, but some of the staff had started to get used to him hovering around. Which was more than Jack could say about himself. Much as he would usually love to have nothing to do, when in a place like the Pentagon, sitting around and not having anything to do was a little nerve-wracking.

He recognised the overly-tall blond man. "Agent Fuller," he greeted, standing up behind the desk in the large office they'd given him. "You've come to collect me then?"

"Yes, sir." The man, like most of the staff he'd met here didn't crack a smile or groan at anything he said – no matter how lame – and so he'd given up. As much of an opportunity this was for him, he was really starting to miss the SGC.

General Hammond had called him up only a few weeks ago with the news that he was retiring – for real, this time, no NID plots involved. Jack had been a little sad, but he knew that George deserved a quiet retirement and the extra time to spend with his family. It had been inevitable once he'd retired from the 'frontlines' at the SGC. What he had told Jack after that had been a little more unexpected.

George had recommended him as a replacement. Again.

As Jack walked down the sterile and generic hallways behind Agent Fuller, he found that he'd accepted again. And he was as lost as to why he'd made such a decision as the last time. More so. This was completely unfamiliar territory for him, at least the SGC had been a home to him for seven years before he took charge.

"Sir."

Jack stopped when Fuller did. They were outside what would soon become his immediate superior officer's office. "Thank you, Agent Fuller." He knocked on the door.

"Enter."

This office was larger than his, which was only to be expected, and was furnished in a more comforting manner. Again, to be expected as General Reynolds had been working with the Pentagon for quite a while. There was a fern in the corner – and why was it always a fern anyway? – and a few photographs and commendations hanging on the wall. His desk was tidy, though held paperwork that Jack knew was light for his position. Today must have been an easy day for his pen.

Reynolds himself smiled professionally as Jack entered. Despite being older than Jack by a fair few years – with the hair to prove it – he looked almost as good as he had over thirty years ago, when Jack had first met him. Heavier around the middle and with more lines framing his eyes, his presence was as imposing as ever and Jack responded to the familiar authority easily.

"General, sir." Jack saluted.

The smile deepened. "At ease, Jack." He reached out and Jack shook his hand firmly across the desk. "Good to see you again."

"You too Bill. How's the family?" Jack took a seat in one of the rather comfortable chairs opposite Reynolds.

"Good. Rachel just started junior high. I think she enjoyed the celebratory party more than school." They shared a chuckled over that. "But look at you Jack. Brigadier General. Never thought I'd see the day." He didn't mention the main reason why he'd never think of Jack ascending so high. Even after almost ten years Jack's first retirement was still a sore issue.

"What can I say," Jack shrugged. "I found something worthwhile in my life."

"So I see. And the world agrees with you." Reynolds pulled a folder towards him from atop the small stack to his right. "I've been keeping an eye on you – have done ever since you joined special ops. I'm sure you're aware of that."

"A lot of people have been watching," Jack admitted quietly. "Not all of them as friendly as you I have to admit."

"I know. You're a credit to the air force and this country Jack, I don't think anyone around here would say otherwise and not be lying. There's not an officer I know who I'd rather have in this position."

Jack shifted uncomfortable. "Bill —"

"I know what you're going to say," Reynolds cut him off, "and I agree: Hammond was a fine officer who loved his work and did it well. But he knew as well as everyone here that any position he held would be temporary. You know how much he loved his family and none of us would begrudge him his earned retirement."

"I'm starting to get a bad feeling about all this, you're buttering me up way too much for this job to be nothing but paperwork."

Reynolds smiled. "You wouldn't be entirely wrong there, Jack." Jack scowled. "Just hear me out. You'll understand why you were the only one truly capable of taking on this position once you know everything it entails."

"Now I'm really getting a bad feeling," Jack muttered. "Sir." Reynolds regarded Jack warily; he only used titles when absolutely serious, and that tone of voice was nothing to be scoffed at. "I would prefer it if you just laid everything out on the table. I understand this is important and it's obviously highly classified. You chose me not just because of my rank, but because of my history both in black ops and the SGC. All of this seems to be leading to a place that does not look entirely welcome."

Reynolds' smile was gone now though he didn't seem to be annoyed with Jack's borderline insubordination. His expression was serious and he sat straight in his chair as he looked Jack directly in the eye. "I should have known you wouldn't be fooled by anything." Reynolds grasped the rest of the files to his right and slid them across the table to Jack along with a non-disclosure statement.

Jack stared at the piece of paper in confusion. "Bill … how confidential is this position?" He still signed the form.

"The SGC is only _one_ of the highly classified operations sanctioned by the government." Reynolds took the form from him and gestured to the folders. "Your new position will have you given direct access to and overriding authority over those which pertain to the security of the world."

Jack froze at the proclamation. "Say what?" he blinked.

Reynolds chuckled. "What? I thought you'd be used to this saving the world deal. You've done it quite a few times after all."

"But there were others? And you're putting me, of all people, in charge of highly sensitive operations?"

"You're not the CO of the operations, no officer could handle that, but you will be the one they call when things get bad. You have the authority to override any action taken by civilian government factions concerning these operations, within reason. Reports from the COs will be sent to you and you will be answerable to the President and myself only. In regards to some of these operations, you will have a government ranking that allows you full access to all information you require."

Jack frowned and turned to the folders in his hands. The top one was very familiar to him: the Stargate Project. The second concerned Area 51. When he got to the third however, he understood this extra precaution.

"I'm in charge of an Army operation?"

"Supervising, and yes. The original operation was government based and employed Special Forces in its operations. When you read that file properly, you'll understand why things changed. The CO isn't exactly happy about deferring to an Air Force officer, but considering the nature of the operation and your experience, he has accepted the decision."

"He didn't really have much choice."

"I know, but Jack." Jack looked up. "Try not to ruffle too many feathers when you start to integrate yourself with the operation." Jack rolled his eyes but nodded. "In that case, I do believe that is all I need to tell you." Reynold's stood and held out his hand again. "Congratulations and welcome aboard General O'Neill."

Jack accepted the handshake. "Thank you, sir. Your faith in my abilities won't be misplaced."

"I know it won't, Jack."

* * *

There was a message waiting for him once he got back to his office. Jack smiled as he heard Daniel's voice come over the answering machine. 

"_Hey Jack. Thought I'd ring to see how your new job's going. Everyone's fine and still _here_."_ Jack smirked at the emphasis on the last word. Danny was still a little sore about missing the _Daedalus_, though Jack was pleased he wasn't losing his best friend to another galaxy. "_Sam and Teal'c say 'hi' and so does Vala, but she's not important."_ Jack chuckled. "_Anyway, call me when you get back from … wherever. Bye."_

The answering machine clicked off and Jack was left in an overly silent office. As much as his new position was fantastic for his career, there was a huge downside that he had considered long and hard before even contemplating picking up the phone to say he accepted it. His friends and most of his life were in Colorado Springs. It seemed an exceptionally juvenile thing to say, but he had seen them all nearly every day for the past eight years. This friendless isolation would take getting used to.

Still, distractions would be nice …

After staring at the folders he'd put on his desk for a few minutes, Jack finally sat down and started going through them.

He flicked through the brief on the Stargate Project and spent a little more time on the Area 51 file before getting to the file that had him quite baffled – and he'd only read the cover sheet.

The Initiative. A debunked civilian-headed government project with a specialised army unit carrying out the objectives the original project had failed to accomplish. Taking down HSTs.

The more Jack read the less he liked. He would have been more sceptical about the ides of demons existing if he hadn't spent the last eight years working with aliens. The demons he could deal with; in a strange way, they made sense, they fit in somewhere. They existed, there was proof and many studies were conducted on them. It was the 'studies' part that pissed him off. The entire operation stank of rogue NID. He was only surprised he hadn't heard of it before. But then, Maybourne and his former associates had been much better at hiding their failures than their successes.

_Hostile_ Sub-Terrestrials. Looked like someone finally got their act together and actually started paying attention to their opponents. Had Jack had to deal with the Initiative, the results weren't likely to have been pretty. But this group, he could understand. Covert ops, taking out threats, saving the world. He could deal.

Having dealt with what should have been his most difficult duty, Jack put aside the folder and picked up the next one.

"Ambassador?" Jack had barely gotten through the first page before he realised that the Initiative folder was meant to soften him up. "Council … what … teenage girls!" Trapped in a morbid duty to carry on reading, Jack soon found out that an army of teenage girls fighting the forces of ultimate evil was not the worst shock he could receive.

Trembling fingers let a profile page drop to the shiny tabletop and Jack stared at the tiny passport photograph that filled a corner of the paper.

"Andy?"


	2. Chapter 2

Riley Finn was a man used to the unexpected. He was well aware that the world was a strange and often inexplicable place and learned long ago not to fight it or even say too much about it. The world was as it was; the Powers that Be (in all contexts) saw to that. He lived a fairly unusual yet unglamorous life these days, travelling around the world for very little money to take out demons that could easily rip his head off in service of his country and the world. Riley was not unhappy with his life, and, though it was unorthodox, it had its own routine and regulations.

An Air Force General was not supposed to be a part of this routine.

"I still don't see why he has to meet with us."

Riley, his wife Sam and Graham Millar sat with their commanding officer, Colonel Barran, in a small briefing room in Edwards Air Force Base. Barran had gotten the call once they'd reached a safe zone. Seemed the brass had done a little reorganising while they'd been out on a long-term mission and they had a new pencil-pusher to tell them what to do. A _flyboy_ pencil pusher.

Riley just looked at Graham which shut him up. None of their operation had been happy to hear about the changes, least of all the four of them. As the highest ranking officers, they had more of an idea about how this change could affect them. Hell, if he wanted to, this _O'Neill_ could shut them down.

Sensing her husband's disquiet, Sam slipped her hand into his and squeezed. Riley managed a small smile for her before they disentangled. He tried not to let how worried he really was show. Their relationship was technically against regulations. Out on the frontier, no one really worried too much about regulations. Everyone had to trust everyone else or they all died. Sure, fights broke out sometimes, but it was more due to tension before serious missions than anything. Riley didn't favour Sam over his other soldiers and they'd all swear to that, but this general might not accept it.

The main door swung open and an airman preceded an older man in complete dress uniform. Riley stood along with the others.

"At ease." General O'Neill nodded to them and looked at the airman who closed the door behind him. "As you might have guessed, I'm Brigadier General Jack O'Neill, new head of special projects for the Pentagon." He didn't have to add: 'and your new boss.'

Barran, an older man of near fifty, made the introductions. "I'm Colonel Barran; this is my second-in-command Agent Riley Finn, Agent Graham Millar and Agent Samantha Finn." None of them missed the quick look O'Neill sent between Riley and Sam. Barran continued on as if he hadn't. "I'm sure you've been well briefed on our operation, so I won't go into any great detail. I will assure you, however, that what you have been told is completely true."

"Oh, believe me, I've heard stranger things," O'Neill assured them. "I very much doubt the government would be forking out so much to fund this operation were it a complete waste of time."

"Of course not." The four of them relaxed slightly.

O'Neill grinned. "Guess you were a little worried about that. You don't have to worry, you guys are doing good and so long as you keep doing good, there should be no problem. Now, before we get into a discussion on the actual project, there might be a few things we need to clear up."

"General?" Barran questioned. Riley and the others tensed.

O'Neill seemed to notice this but didn't try to ease their worries. "I am well aware that I am an Air Force General and you, though you all hold government positions, are Special Forces. This is bound to cause a little friction, so let me get a few things cleared up." O'Neill looked all of them in the eye before continuing. "I have no intention of shutting this operation down. I have no intention of interfering with your methods or command structure. I'm trusting you to continue doing your job as best you can for the sake of the world. You've been doing this for five years already and you know intimately what can happen if things go wrong."

"That seems quite generous, sir," Barran admitted. It was more generous than any of them had expected.

"It's practical," O'Neill waved away. "We'll get to the generous part soon. Basically, all I really expect to do is read mission reports, do all the shaking hands and sucking up to keep you in operation and hopefully make a few worthwhile comments in regards to your operations that will at least be _considered_. That sound fair to you?"

"I think it's more than acceptable," Barran admitted.

"Excellent." O'Neill grinned, an infectious expression that had all of their lips twitching. The four Special Forces officers relaxed. "Now that the hard stuff's out of the way, let's get down to the boring details. Airman!" He called out to the door. It opened and the airman escorting the General before entered.

"Sir?"

"Could you bring in the case I brought with me earlier?"

"Yes sir." He left the door open as he brought the small case in.

"Thank you airman." O'Neill didn't open the case until the man had left the room. The clicks of the lock sounded ominous in the silent and curious atmosphere.

O'Neill brought forth a strange … something from inside the case. "I'm sure you're all wondering what this is." He squeezed the object and it made a sound, startling the four staring at it, before unfolding into a 'z' shape. O'Neill held it by the lower part and tilted it away to show his captive audience exactly what it looked like. "It's called a 'zatnikatel'. It's commonly referred to as a 'zat gun' or just a 'zat'. All you have to do is squeeze it and it produces a concentrated burst of electrical energy that affects an organism's central nervous system, thereby rendering said organism unconscious. A second shot kills and a third disintegrates the matter."

Riley stared at the weapon in fascination and, glancing to the side, knew he wasn't the only one. He needed to know something though. "Sir," he spoke out a little apprehensively. "By organism, what exactly do you mean?"

O'Neill stared back at Riley, his expression no indication of whether he'd impressed the general or said something he really shouldn't have. "Humans," the general admitted. "Those statistics are for human bodies. Other statistics are available. They mostly coincide with the basic statistics, however."

"I see. Thank you, sir." Riley wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the information, but by the look on O'Neill's face, it wasn't a subject for discussion.

"This is not the only operation I will be overseeing," O'Neill said. "The others are as classified as this one. I do intent to integrate some aspects of each project into others where possible. You will get more information on these weapons once I have authorisation to do so. Don't worry," he assured them, seeing the apprehensive glares, "as I said earlier, your mission parameters will not change. I'm just giving you the option of a technological upgrade."

"We're always looking for ways to improve our performance," Barran said neutrally.

"I know. You're not the only one who considers the security of the world to be of upmost importance. I think we'll work well together." O'Neill smiled.

* * *

"So, first impressions?" Riley looked at the rest of the command unit and sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"He didn't seem so bad," Sam, ever the voice of reason, interjected. "I mean, he didn't screw around with our command and left everything as it was. Plus, cool new toys."

"I don't know," Graham looked uncomfortable saying something about a commanding officer. "There was something off about him."

"Off?" Riley asked.

"I don't know, Riley, it just felt like there was something else he wasn't saying."

"Well, he's Pentagon," Sam shrugged. "They're always hiding things. Kinda their job. As far as bureaucrats go, he seemed all right."

"That man is not a bureaucrat."

Riley, Sam and Graham all turned to their superior officer. Barran hadn't said anything for the entire ride back to their temporary safe-house in LA. Now that they were back on their ground, they'd finally discussed what this sudden change over could mean.

"Sir?" Riley asked from the couch beside his wife.

Barran leaned forward in the armchair he'd commandeered and picked up a glass of water from the coffee table. "O'Neill is no bureaucrat; he's a soldier if ever I saw one. He had Special Ops written all over him." Barran took a sip. "Highly decorated, O'Neill only received the rank of Brigadier General a year ago. His file's almost completely classified."

"What level?" Riley asked.

"The highest. He's got glowing recommendations from the President and Joint Chiefs. You don't get that kind of recognition by sitting on your ass all day. He's a leader, not a pencil-pusher." Barran took another sip then smiled. "It'll be interesting to see how things work out with a guy like that behind the scenes."

"I think we can trust him," Riley admitted.

"I think you're right," Barran agreed.

* * *

"I don't think I made such a great first impression."

Jack wished he was sitting in his large comfy swirly chair in his recently decorated new office as he talked to Daniel. The stark room was homier than it had been the first time he saw it now that he'd had time to adjust. There were pictures and his desk had papers on it – or rather locked away in its drawers since he wasn't actually there at the moment – with a neat fancy pen holder and a shiny nameplate. He hadn't yet acquired the obligatory fern for the corner, but he had a couple of rocks set up on the sideboard in what he thought was a vaguely interesting formation. They were an office-warming gift from the man on the other end of the highly static line.

Reception wasn't the greatest when it was raining in Los Angeles and Daniel was several hundred metres underground.

Instead of the comfy chair he was still breaking in, Jack was sitting on a hard hotel mattress in a stuffy dimly-lit shoe-box of a room getting ready for his next meeting. He'd declined accepting the Edwards Base's generous hospitality for a lower key appearance. He was meeting civilians – very powerful, politically and physically – later that day and he wanted to get off to a good start. Knowing what their experience with military personnel was like, Jack had thought it best if he seemed as normal and non-threatening as an Air Force General acting as an international diplomatic ambassador could.

"I seriously doubt that this meeting's going to go any better," Jack muttered.

"Okay, so you're not exactly what most would consider diplomatic material …"

"Gee, thanks for the support, Daniel. I'm really going to miss all these wonderful pep talks when you go on missions."

"Jack, shut up."

"Eight years together and _now_ I rub off on you?"

"Jack …" Jack grinned hearing Daniel's irritation.

"I'm sorry." He decided to be graceful for once. "I'm just … I screw this meeting up and I could bring about a world war – between our allies! I get the other things … well, not all of them. Some of these new projects are completely Sam's department, but this one is just so not me."

"Jack, listen. You're more capable of this than you think. You're a major part of the reason why this project has been such a success. Thor and the others wouldn't be our allies if it weren't for you and you alone."

"So you and Sam and Teal'c don't matter now?"

"Of course we matter." Jack chuckled at the indignant response. "I'm just saying that you underestimate yourself. You're a powerful man and a great leader. You know how to negotiate and do what's best for the world. I've seen you on missions, and I'm sure that some of my amazing skills have rubbed of on you, just as your sarcasm has infected me."

"Do I need to fly back there and take your ego down a peg or two Dr. Jackson?"

"No, my ego and I are reacquainting ourselves after an eight year separation. My ego blames you for that and I … well I agree with my ego."

"Ah, I miss you too Daniel." Jack looked at his watch. "Right now I miss you even more than I thought possible. Do you think that maybe Mitchell would care all that much if I kidnapped you and used you as my personal diplomatic assistant? I can pay you lots of money and buy you shiny presents!"

Daniel's laughter eased his nerves a little. "I'll think about it. Anyway, I've got to get to a meeting. Sam's got some device and I've got to get there early so Vala doesn't get her fingers all over it."

"Fun shenanigans, how I miss them. Give my best to Sam and Teal'c."

"I will. Take care, Jack."

"You too spacemonkey."

Jack ended the call and tucked his phone away. He glanced around for some sort of distraction but found nothing but an empty room.

"Guess I gotta go," he sighed.

Grabbing his wallet and keys to the rental, Jack headed out to meet with the Council's American-based ambassador certain that this was going to be the most disastrous meeting in the history of all his diplomatic relations.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack wasn't exactly sure what to expect of the mysterious ambassador he was supposed to meet. Mr. Giles hadn't given him anything to go on when he arranged a meeting.

Jack would have preferred to meet with Mr. Giles himself, but the man had appointed an ambassador for a reason. Their conversation had lasted only a few minutes due to various emergency calls that had come through that day alone. The poor guy sounded dead. Jack remembered what it was like to run something as complex as the Stargate Program. The Council sounded _at least_ ten times worse.

It was out of sympathy that he hadn't protested meeting with an ambassador rather than Mr. Giles himself; but Jack was suddenly regretting not pressing the issue as he stepped through the doors to the private investigations office where he was to meet with the ambassador.

It looked like hell had hit town – or at least the lobby in which he stood. Papers and books were strewn everywhere and there were quite a few old weapons with dried blood leaning by the entrance. Jack didn't even want to speculate on whatever was poking over the top of the check-in desk.

On a strange tangent that passed through, Jack wondered why a private investigation office was set up in an old hotel anyway.

"Be with you in a minute mate."

A man, English by the sound of his voice, had limped through the door of what Jack assumed was a back room, giving only a glance to his visitor. Jack could hear him cursing under his breath as he moved across the lobby into another room near the front and started banging objects around.

"Bloody hell … Angel!"

Jack sincerely hoped he wasn't referring to him, but the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase eased that fear. Another man appeared, dark and imposing, though less so than Jack assumed he normally would be due to the open shirt and bloodied bandages wrapped around his ribs. He stopped as he noted Jack's appearance then continued down the stairs and across the floor to Jack, his expression cool and just a tad scary.

"Can I help you?"

Jack glanced quickly at the bandages again before nodding hesitantly, a frown coming to his face. This certainly wasn't what he expected. "I'm General O'Neill. I'm looking for the Council's ambassador."

The man's expression cleared and Jack relaxed a little at the more welcoming almost-smile. "Oh, of course. We've been expecting you. I'm Angel, of Angel Investigations."

Jack nodded. The name was familiar; he was recorded as an ally to the Council – a very strained ally over the past two years, however. It was unusual that Angel Investigations would be used as a neutral point for their ambassador, but then, perhaps Jack wasn't the only one they were entering into negotiations with.

"Jack O'Neill." He would have said more, but the man who'd disappeared into the back room earlier interrupted.

"Oi! I'm bleeding to death here!"

Angel rolled his eyes at his associate's insistence. "One can only pray," he muttered. "Excuse me, I should see to that first."

"Go right ahead." Jack wondered what kind of jobs they took on to get that bloodied up and not see a doctor. The trails of dried blood leading from the front doors weren't exactly an indication of a secure and healthy working environment either.

"Make yourself at home," Angel called back as he moved into what appeared to be an office see to his associate.

Despite the fact that Angel couldn't see it, Jack nodded. The room around was furnished a little nicer than the average hotel lobby and was obviously segregated to better suit business than hospitality. There was a set of lounges and a few plants to increase ambience – again with the ferns! – but the conference table to one side reinforced the idea that this was a place of business. Serious business, by the looks of the books and – was that parchment? – piled up. Yet still, the question niggled at Jack, why a hotel?

Jack decided to walk around to get a feel for the place, drawing closer to the conference table as his curiosity overtook him. Some of the languages on the parchment and open books looked familiar and Jack knew he'd spent way too much time with Daniel to be able to recognise the difference between Sumerian and Babylonian, much less be able to recognise a few characters – just the usual ones though: gods, ultimate power, that sort of thing.

"Pretty heavy stuff," he murmured.

"I always thought so too."

Jack spun around with a curse on his lips, but the boy behind him only help up his hands innocently with an amused smile on his lips. Jack glared as he relaxed slightly. "People like you should be collared and belled," he muttered.

"I get that a lot." The boy probably wasn't as young as Jack's first assumption. He wasn't that tall, but he wasn't a gawky teenager, so probably eighteen or nineteen.

"You work here?" Jack asked curiously.

"Sometimes," he shrugged. "When I have time that is. I'm in college, so the schedule's kinda erratic. Are you here to see Angel?" Jack wasn't sure but there was a minute hesitation before the boy said Angel's name.

"Not exactly."

Confusion crossed the boy's face before he clued in. "You're the guy from Washington. I'll go get the others for you."

"Well, Angel's helping the English guy with the … hair out."

"Willingly?" The boy sounded surprised. "I should go take Spike off his hands before they kill each other, or cause irreparable structural damage."

"Angel and Spike. Strange names."

"Well, mine's Connor, so it's not exactly a trend." There was a huge crash from the office and Connor and Jack turned towards sound. "I should go separate those two."

"Good idea."

Before Connor could get too far though the front door exploded inwards and something screeched loud enough to cause hearing loss from the remains of the doorway.

"What the hell?" Jack pulled out his gun and trained it on the … oh, crap, was _that _a demon?

It had wings and slime dripped through what looked like chinks in stone armour, only it obviously wasn't stone, but likely just as hard. It was tall and wide and its eyes glowed – and right now Jack couldn't believe he'd just wished they'd glowed white instead of red like that.

"That thing's supposed to be dead!" Jack risked a glanced from the huge menacing threat before him to the side where Angel and Spike had just materialised. Spike was bereft of the long black coat he'd been wearing previously and bandages could be seen where his shirt rode up. His bleached hair had a splotch of red drying slowly on the tips.

Angel glared at his associate. "You didn't listen to _any_ of my warnings, did you?"

"Well most of what you say is bollocks anyway, so of course not!"

"Uh, guys?" Connor cut in. "Demon now, argue later."

"Not a good demon then," Jack asked as the thing approached, its screeching turning to growling. And there really had to be something wrong with him when he could tell the demon was growling in anticipation more than anything else.

"Vicious killer, smart, but not intelligent," Angel supplied.

"Good." Jack raised his gun and in the split second it took the demon to start to react and head his way, he'd shot it in the eye.

It screeched and both he and Connor, being the closest to the thing fell to the floor clutching their hands to their ears. It seemed the single bullet hadn't done the job. Sure the demon was in pain, but it was easily recovering its wits. Jack scrambled backwards, grabbing Connor's arm to pull him back too while Angel and Spike leapt at the thing with swords.

"You okay?" he asked Connor. He realised that he couldn't hear himself very well, so Connor wouldn't be able to either, so exaggerated the question and Connor nodded.

"How the hell are we supposed to kill that thing?" Jack yelled as he watched the two men easily get thrown around by the infuriated demon. Both of them got a few good stabs in, but it wasn't enough to slow it down too much.

Connor just shrugged and stood up, pulling Jack back to a cupboard which opened up to reveal many weapons. Many archaic weapons: swords, daggers, crossbows, axes. They were all quite shiny and sharp, well looked after, though Jack still wished he hadn't given that zat to Barran yesterday.

"Your gun will be useless," Connor told him as he thrust an axe at Jack. The thing was heavy and felt weird in Jack's hands, so he put it back and grabbed a spear leaning on the side of the cupboard instead. Not the same as a staff weapon but close enough to feel a little more familiar. Connor grabbed a long knife and a sword before rushing into the fray.

Jack stared after him a moment and winced as he took a hard blow. The kid was strong, looked like he barely felt it and the return blow with his sword had the demon howling.

There didn't seem to be any plan to the fight – hell, half the time Angel and his crew got in each others way. Connor was thrown at Spike, who'd just gotten up from a painful blow to an already damaged arm. Jack couldn't see any way of helping out without hindering more, so he watched, hoping to see a weakness and a good opportunity to use it.

But the thing was too fast. Spike was mostly down for the count, barely able to even rise and Connor's jeans were shredded down one leg and painted a disturbing shade of red. Angel was still going strong, but he had one arm clutched too close to his chest. Jack swore seeing all of this. They were going to get killed if he didn't do something.

He was going to jump in when he heard someone saying something from above, the voice growing increasingly louder with every second. Jack glanced up as he heard a loud yell and quickly looked away when he saw a flash of bright light. Blinking he looked back at the demon that seemed to be struggling against something invisible. His hearing was still shot, so he couldn't completely make out the instruction that was yelled down to the combatants, but Spike seemed to understand and threw something at Angel – a lighter – who then set the demon on fire.

The slime must have been exceptionally flammable, because the huge demon exploded and covered them – and the lobby – in sizzling slime and guts. Jack brushed the stuff off as fast as he could; it was still hot and rushed over to help Spike who could still barely move. Connor rushed over to Angel, but both of them seemed fine. Jack helped Spike over to the ruined lounges and settled him down then turned back to Angel and Connor.

"So are exploding demons a regular occurrence with you guys?" Though the ringing hadn't quite receded yet, his hearing was better than a few minutes ago.

"Sometimes," Angel admitted.

"Gunyaryk demons can be tough and I thought I told you their armour was super strong and you'd need more than swords." Jack looked up to the staircase where a young man clad in black was slowly descending, leaning heavily on the banister.

"You didn't tell me that," Connor glared at Angel. "I wouldn't have let you go without help otherwise."

"I thought I could at least slow it down!" Angel protested.

Connor said something else to the older man, but Jack wasn't listening to their argument any more, he was watching the man who'd done _something_ to the demon to stop it long enough for them to kill it. He was tall and scrawny and looked like he'd been violently ill for at least three weeks.

Still, despite the extremely pale skin tone and dark shadows under his eyes, Jack recognised him immediately.

"Andrew."

Andrew blinked and stared at Jack a moment before recognition clicked. "Uncle Jack?" A wide grin spread across his face making him appear much healthier. Jack wasn't able to savour the expression long before his nephew was suddenly clutching at him in a weak attempt at a hug.

Jack smiled and pulled Andrew closer, lending his strength to the obviously sick man. "It's been a while," he said, pulling back, but not enough that Andrew toppled over.

"About ten years," Andrew agreed, but his smile faded as he realised why it had been ten years since he'd seen his uncle.

Jack nodded, also recalling the last time he saw his nephews: Charlie's funeral. "Well, I'm glad to see you're … well, actually, you're not looking too well right now."

Andrew managed a smile. "Tired, I overworked myself, but it's nothing serious." He moved back so he wasn't completely leaning on Jack and smiled even brighter. "So how come you're here? Are you gonna be staying for long? You can stay here if you want, there's lots of rooms and stuff, it'd be so cool if you did."

Jack chuckled. The kid was as much of a chatterbox as he was back then. He was glad to see that hadn't changed. "I'm gonna be here a while," he assured Andrew. "I'm here for business."

"Business," Andrew looked confused. "I thought you retired after …"

"I did, but they asked me back. It's a long story."

Andrew nodded. "That's okay, at least we'll have some time to catch up while you're here, right?"

"Definitely," Jack nodded.

"So, business. You're here to see Angel?" Andrew turned to look at the head of Angel Investigations.

Angel shook his head. "Actually he's here to see you." Both Andrew and Jack looked confused and Angel smiled in amusement. "General O'Neill, meet the Council's ambassador, Andrew Wells. I'm sure you two will hit it off fantastically."

Andrew and Jack stared at each other.

"You run into relatives in the strangest places," Connor mused.


End file.
